


(we do it) out of love

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Butler!Stiles, First Kiss, M/M, Pranks, Stiles and Derek hate each other, Teasing, The Nanny AU, but blink and you miss it, just fun and entertainment, or so it seems, with only a tiny smidge of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nanny AU with Stiles as Niles, Derek as CC, Peter as the man of the house, and Scott as the nanny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(we do it) out of love

**Author's Note:**

> For Pafhan, who asked for "The Nanny AU in which Stiles is Niles and Derek is CC." 
> 
> Thank you very much to LiteraryOblivion for the beta!

Derek doesn’t ring the bell anymore. He hasn’t for a long time - ever since his snipe about Stiles not being fast enough to open it anyway - and even though he’s glad he doesn’t have to interrupt whatever he is doing around the house anymore every time Derek drops by, Stiles still thinks it’s _his job_ , dammit, and it bugs him every time Derek flaunts in unannounced.

 

Okay, granted, maybe the thing that bugs Stiles the most is the fact that Derek is so stupidly gorgeous and people that have been granted those looks should not have such sucky and rude personalities. Life just isn’t fair.

 

“Where’s Peter?” Derek grumbles as he strides in, without so much as a hello.

 

“Why yes, I’m doing absolutely fine today, thank you so much for asking,” Stiles says without so much as missing a beat, wistfully looking up as he grips the broom in his hands a little bit tighter.

 

Derek just sighs, not even really looking at Stiles as he holds up a large brown envelope. “These contracts need to be in London by tomorrow…”

 

“Here,” Stiles says as he holds up his broom, reaching it out to Derek, “Hop on. With the time difference, I’m sure you can still make it.”

 

“That’s the best you can come up with?” Derek rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, see, some people have a busy work-day, you know,” Stiles says as he continues sweeping the hallway - where Derek _of course_ dragged in some dried mud. “We can’t just sit around, feed off our uncle’s money, and think of quips all day.”

 

“Yes, and we all know how challenging cleaning and serving people is for the mind,” Derek scoffs, then turns his back towards Stiles as he heads into the living room. “Peter in his office?”

 

Stiles doesn’t dignify him with an answer.

 

***

 

Stiles plops down on one of the seats by the counter, pouring himself a hot cup of coffee and sliding one over to Scott.

 

“Sometimes I really hate this job,” Stiles sighs.

 

“It’s not so bad,” Scott shrugs, plopping a sugar cube into his cup, “I mean, yeah, Peter’s a bit of an eccentric weirdo, but we’re never short of anything and in a way he does treat us like we’re family.”

 

“It’s not Peter I’m complaining about,” Stiles says, then groans. “And I can’t believe I actually said that. This is the guy that has buzzed me awake through that damn intercom in the middle of the night because he had a sudden craving for rabbit stew.”

 

“Hah,” Scott barks out a laugh.

 

“But no, it’s his fucking nephew that flaunts in whenever he pleases,” Stiles sighs.

 

“Well, he _is_ Peter’s partner and their office is in the house,” Scott reasons. “Where else is he supposed to spend his days?”

 

“I don’t know, but not in my face,” Stiles grumbles, curling his fingers around his warm cup.

 

“Oh please,” Scott rolls his eyes, “Don’t even.”

 

“Don’t even _what_?” Stiles frowns, eyeing Scott suspiciously.

 

“You and Derek are totally perfect for each other,” Scott sighs exasperatedly.

 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Stiles calls out.

 

“That’s you’re just as bad as he is, and that you’re fooling nobody with all your flirting!” Scott says, before sipping from his coffee.

 

“ _F-flirting_?” Stiles nearly chokes on his drink. “What are you even talking about? We hate each other!”

 

“U-huh,” Scott says, basically humming into his mug, “whatever you say.”

 

“I’m serious, Scott!” Stiles continues, completely outraged.

 

“I know you are,” Scott says, a small grin tugging at the side of his mouth. “That’s what makes it even more tragic.”

 

“I, wha- , ugh,” Stiles splutters.

 

“I gotta go,” Scott says, sliding off his seat. “Gotta pick up the kids from school.”

 

“You are the worst best friend ever,” Stiles grumbles, calling after him, “Oh, how those kids must suffer, having such a terrible person as a nanny.”

 

“Whatever,” Scott smirks. “You love me, and so do Peter’s kids.”

 

Stiles harrumphs as Scott waves goodbye before breezing out of the kitchen.

 

***

 

“Stiles!” Stiles hears Peter’s voice boom through the house.

 

“Sir?” Stiles asks as he makes his way into the office to find Peter sitting behind his desk, and… of course Derek is sitting on the couch opposite the desk, petting Triskele, his big-ass dog.

 

“Ah, Stiles,” Peter says, leaning back in his chair. “Derek’s apartment is being fumigated.”

 

“Didn’t they try that before though?” Stiles smirks, glancing at Derek, “He always comes back.”

 

Stiles knows he can see the corners of Peter’s mouth twitch, itching to smile, but he straightens his face again soon enough.

 

Derek just sighs and pushes himself off the couch. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a hotel that will accept dogs this size?” Derek asks, put upon.

 

“Even if you promise them you wouldn’t hump the bell boy's leg?” Stiles asks, keeping a straight face.

 

“Stiles…,” Peter berates gently, and Stiles straightens up immediately. “Derek and Tris will be staying here for a week or so.”

 

Stiles groans internally, his head snapping over at Derek, who is staring at him with a victorious smirk on his face.

 

“I told him you would take care of everything,” Peter says, already going back to the papers in front of him on the desk.

 

“Of course,” Stiles manages to grit through his teeth, giving Derek the most fake smile he can muster.

 

“Excellent,” Derek says, smug, handing Stiles the dog’s leash, then a small orange bottle of medications. “He needs to take these pills three times a day.”

 

“Fine,” Stiles huffs, taking the pills, “I’ll put it in his food.”

 

Derek’s complacent smile goes up a nodge even, and he’s turning to leave the office as he says, “Wrong end.”

 

Stiles’ face falls, and he holds in the whine that is bubbling up inside of him. At least until Derek has left the office - and Stiles can _hear_ him laughing out in the hallway, the bastard.

 

“I think maybe you’ve had that coming,” Peter says, amused.

 

“Sorry, Sir,” Stiles mumbles, absentmindedly petting Triskele on the head, because he knows the constant bickering of him and Derek isn’t exactly professional for a butler.

 

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Peter says, breezy, “As long as you make sure the both of you survive my nephew’s stay here, alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling slightly, “I think we can do that.”

 

Peter shakes his head, somewhat amused, and then mutters something under his breath that Stiles can’t quite catch.

 

“Can I get you something, Sir?” Stiles asks, Tris now slobbering all over Stiles’ fingers. At least Derek’s _dog_ likes him.

 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Peter says, waving his hand absentmindedly at Stiles. “Just make sure Derek gets settled into the guestroom alright.”

 

***

 

“Here you go, Sir,” Stiles says as he hands Peter his nightly cup of coffee.

 

“Thank you, Stiles,” Peter says, smiling at him fondly. “That’ll be all for tonight.”

 

Peter is settled into his sofa, Derek lounging out on the other one. The kids have already gone to bed, and Scott has retired to his room as well. Stiles nods at Peter and then hands Derek a cup of coffee as well.

 

“Oh,” Derek says, as if he’s surprised by Stiles’ generosity, then looks at the cup as he takes it in his hands, “This is decaf though, right? Otherwise I won’t be able to sleep.”

 

“Stiles always makes decaf in the evening,” Peter says, turning his attention back to the television.

 

Stiles doesn’t comment on it, just smiles sweetly at Derek as he starts to sip from his cup before heading up to his room for a nice long shower and maybe some TV time in bed.

 

The next morning, he definitely doesn’t smirk at Derek’s tiny, tired eyes, or at the way he yawns continuously over breakfast.

 

“Didn’t you sleep well, Uncle Derek?” Elizabeth asks, even though he’s technically the kids’ cousin, but the age difference has made it so that they call him uncle. Stiles tries not to think about how good Derek actually is with the kids.

 

“Guess I’m not used to the bed yet, sweetie,” Derek smiles at her, buttering up his toast.

 

“Shall I tell you a goodnight story tonight then?” the little girl suddenly beams, “I’m sure that’ll make you fall right asleep!”

 

“I’m sure, too,” Derek says gently, taking his cup of coffee and taking a big gulp.

 

In the afternoon, Stiles may or may not serve Derek a few big glasses of Coke – the regular kind – and when the evening comes, Derek drinks a few more cups of decaf coffee – or so Stiles assures him vehemently.

 

It’s around six in the morning when Derek comes barging into his room, and Stiles shoots up straight in his bed, eyes blinking at the figure that just stormed through his door.

 

“Derek?” Stiles frowns, trying to chase the sleep out of his brain.

 

“Decaffeinated my ass!” Derek barks, “I have a meeting with a producer today, you giant ass!”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles groans, because it’s just a harmless prank. And besides, Derek deserves it.

 

“Are you overcompensating, Stiles?” Derek sneers, “Is that it? Does the little servant boy have a little spatula?”

 

“Oh please, you couldn’t even handle my equipment,” Stiles snorts loudly.

 

“Why would I ever _want to_?” Derek snaps, and then the door slams shut. Stiles can hear stomping footsteps retreating in the hallway until he can hear the door of the guest room slam shut as well, and Stiles lets himself fall back onto his mattress and lets out a deep breath.

 

Technically, he won this round, and yet he doesn’t feel the satisfaction that he thought he would. Stupid Derek, can’t even lose properly.

 

***

 

A nice relaxing shower is all that Stiles needs right now, but then the smell hits him all of a sudden, and he almost gags because this is not what he was expecting when he turned on the water.

 

“What the fuck?” Stiles calls out at no one in particular, trying to sidestep the spray but it’s too late already, he’s covered in gross water that smells like… _broth_? Chicken broth to be precise and he fumbles to turn off the water and tries not to slip as he hurries out of the shower to grab a towel.

 

“Hale!” he yells out, because he just _knows_ this is all Derek’s doing. He’s stomping out into the hallway dripping wet, towel tied around his waist. “Derek!” he yells out again because he’s in a house full of Hales and Derek never insisted he be called Mister Hale by him anyway - not after the millionth time of Peter and Derek going “Yes?” at the same time.

 

“Derek!” Stiles is banging on the guestroom door, one hand holding up his towel, and then Derek opens the door and leans into the frame with a smug grin, giving Stiles the once-over.

 

“Is this your usual morning attire?” Derek smirks, and if Stiles wasn’t so busy being incredibly pissed off, he might actually notice the way Derek’s eyes are trailing down his chest.

 

“You put a bouillon cube in my shower head?” Stiles asks, incredulous, “What are you, twelve?!”

 

“Who says I did anything at all?” Derek says, even though the look on his face tells Stiles all he needs to know. “But saying I did… Who is the twelve year old here, you think? Serving me nothing but caffeine when I already can’t sleep? With the never-ending jabs, relaying false information from Peter, acting like a giant toddler!”

 

“Oh please, as if you’re any better!” Stiles calls out, “You’re constantly on my case! And look at me now, for fuck’s sake! I smell of chicken soup!”

 

“Careful Tris doesn’t mistake you for a treat,” Derek snorts. “To me you just smell foul.”

 

Stiles straightens up as the door of Peter’s bedroom opens, who is clearly in the middle of his morning routine, if the toothbrush in his mouth is anything to go by.

 

“Sir,” Stiles says, his face going beet red as he’s suddenly very aware that he’s standing there all but buttnaked, dripping water on the floor, covered only by a towel.

 

“The two of you really need to find a hobby,” Peter says around his toothbrush, rolling his eyes.

 

“I don’t need a hobby,” Derek huffs annoyed, crossing his arms in front of him.

 

“Oh no,” Peter says cynically, already heading back into his room, “You have a successful career, and a… successful career.”

 

Derek’s jaw clenches, and Stiles has to force himself not to burst out in laughter as Peter’s door closes again.

 

“Yes, how _do_ you balance them both?” Stiles says gleefully.

 

“So witty,” Derek says, even though his entire posture is stiff. “Especially for a servant.”

 

“At least when I offer something, people take it,” Stiles says sharply, because he thinks he knows Derek’s weak points, and dammit, he’s still smelling of chicken broth.

 

He’s expecting a snappy comeback though, something clever and barby that will put Stiles right in his place. What he’s getting instead is Derek’s face contorting into something that almost looks… sad, before he steps back into his room and slams the door right into Stiles’ face.

 

And Stiles… isn’t quite sure what the hell just happened.

 

***

 

“Scott,” Stiles whines as he’s preparing the kids’ lunch packages and Scott joins him in the kitchen with the backpacks. “I think I messed up.”

 

“The shower incident?” Scott raises an eyebrow, “Yes, the entire house could hear you. I had to reassure Lizzie that Uncle Derek and Stiles weren’t _actually_ going to kill each other.”

 

“No, but…” Stiles shakes his head, “Derek… He doesn’t really date, does he?”

 

“Are you finally getting your head out of your ass?” Scott smirks as he grabs a couple of juice boxes from the fridge.

 

“What?” Stiles frowns, continuing to smear the sandwiches, “No, I mean… _why_ doesn’t he ever date?”

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Scott asks, installing himself at Stiles’ counter. “You know how the Hales died, right?”

 

“Yeah, in a fire,” Stiles looks up, confused, “What does that have anything to do with Derek’s dating pattern?”

 

“Dude…,” Scott says, and his tone drops an octave or two, “they died in a fire that Derek’s then girlfriend lit.”

 

“What?” Stiles’ hands still on the sandwiches.

 

“Yeah, man,” Scott says, glancing at the door to make sure none of the Hales are stepping in. Stiles knows the fire is hardly ever talked about in the house. “It was arson, and Derek and Peter were supposed to be in there as well. His girlfriend went away for life.”

 

“Whoa…” Stiles lets out a breath, “That’s gotta be a damper on your love life. And he hasn’t dated since?”

 

“No, a couple of years ago he went out with someone again,” Scott says, “Right before you came to work here, I think. Didn’t last long though.”

 

“What happened?” Stiles asks, lunch packages all but forgotten.

 

“Turned out to be a gun for hire,” Scott shrugs.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles cries out, incredulous, “How did I not know any of this?!”

 

“Probably because you’re too busy pulling Derek’s pigtails all the time,” Scott fixes him with a pointed look.

 

Stiles splutters out in indignation, but then he deflates behind his counter, slumping down on it.

 

“Oh, I messed up…,” he sighs.

 

***

 

Stiles knocks softly on the guestroom door. He’s nervous, and he feels like a bit of an ass, if he’s completely honest.

 

“Not now,” comes the gruff reply from the other end, and Derek’s voice sounds a bit hoarse.

 

Stiles carefully opens the door anyway, sticks his head in as he says tentatively, “You said ‘come in’, right?” He tries to go for a weak smile, but he cringes at how lame he sounds.

 

“Do you just never give up?” Derek says annoyed from where he’s sitting behind the desk, “Just get the fuck out, Stiles!”

 

“No, see, I wanna talk to you,” Stiles says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, “I feel like I overstepped some line, and I swear I thought we were just ribbing.”

 

“It’s fine, Stiles, whatever,” Derek sighs, barely looking up at him.

 

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t exactly sound like it’s fine though,” Stiles says, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

 

“Look, what are you even pretending to do here?” Derek scoffs, finally pushing himself away from his desk. “Is this part of your gloating process? Because you’re usually less hypocritical about it.”

 

“Seriously?” Stiles scowls, “Why do you have to do that? Are you incapable of acting like a normal human being? I’m trying to be nice here - ”

 

“ _Nice_?” Derek spits out, “You’ve never been nice to me in your entire lifetime! You hate me!”

 

It kind of feels like a slap in the face, and Stiles doesn’t even fully understand why. “I don’t hate you,” he says, taken aback.

 

“Oh please, Stiles,” Derek rolls his eyes.

 

“No, Derek, I’m serious,” Stiles says, “I thought this was just a game? It’s just something we do. I mean, it’s not like you’re any softer on me. Two showers later and I still feel like I reek of chicken broth!”

 

“You deserved that!” Derek says instantly.

 

“See, you’re just as bad as I am!” Stiles argues, “It’s not like I’m the big bad bully and you’re an innocent victim here!”

 

“No, you’re just the one that doesn’t know when to let up!” Derek raises his voice, staring Stiles down.

 

“And I came here to apologize for that but you can’t even accept that!” Stiles gets out, irritated.

 

“ _Apologize_?” Derek scoffs, “I guess I must’ve been thrown by the lack of the words ‘I’m sorry.’”

 

“That’s because you jumped on my case the second I walked in; you’re not even giving me a chance!” Stiles yells, right up in Derek’s face.

 

“You don’t _deserve_ a chance!” Derek yells back, his face only a few inches away from Stiles’.

 

“God, you’re just infuriating!” Stiles grits through his teeth, “You’re such an entitled douchebag!”

 

“And you’re an irritating _servant boy_!” Derek spits out the last words as if they’re beneath him.

 

“Asshole!” Stiles shouts back.

 

“Dickhead!” Derek gets out.

 

“Argh, you’re such a - ” Stiles cuts himself off, so annoyed that he can’t even come up with a good insult anymore, so instead he just puts his palms against Derek’s chest and shoves him away. Or tries to anyway, because then, Derek’s hands are gripping his upper arms. For a second, Stiles thinks he’s going to get pummeled into the ground - because lets face it, Derek is probably twice as strong as Stiles is, dude works out - but that’s not what happens. Suddenly, Derek’s mouth is crushing against his own, and for a split second Stiles wants to pull away, shove Derek off of him, and maybe slap him in the face because seriously, what is he playing at?

 

But then, abruptly something makes a click in Stiles’ brain, and he finds himself returning the kiss, pressing his lips against Derek’s and _oh._

_Oh._

 

Derek’s hands aren’t gripping him anymore, just resting on top of Stiles’ arms, and Stiles moves a little closer to him, parting his lips a little bit so he can feel Derek’s tongue pushing through, and it’s like everything falls into place.

 

Stiles smiles as he pulls back eventually, but just a little bit. He rests his forehead against Derek’s, who now has his arms wrapped around him, and he huffs out a small laugh.

 

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that…,” Stiles says, sliding his hands around Derek’s waist.

 

“Me neither,” Derek whispers, and his posture goes a tiny bit stiff against Stiles, like he’s not sure what happened or how Stiles will react.

 

“Well, _you_ kissed _me_ ,” Stiles teases gently.

 

“You kissed back,” Derek mutters as he relaxes against Stiles, tilting his head a bit as he presses his cheek against Stiles’.

 

“Fair enough,” Stiles chuckles, and then he goes in for another kiss.

 

***

 

“Well, this is just downright weird,” Peter says as he puts down his empty cup of coffee.

 

“What is?” Derek asks, pouring some cereal into his bowl. Stiles hands him the milk with a smile.

 

“This!” Peter laughs, “Breakfast is almost over and the two of you…” Peter waves his hands between Stiles and Derek, “... haven’t gotten at each other’s throats yet!”

 

Stiles smirks, pouring Peter another cup of coffee. “Oh, that was taken care of before breakfast, Sir.”

 

Derek tries not to grin, as he instinctively raises the collar of his shirt a little bit, and Stiles knows there’s a nice looking hickey right underneath the fabric.

 

“I mean, coming up with good quips and serving breakfast…,” Derek tuts, ribbing goodnatured. “Can’t expect him to multitask.”

 

“And yet I’ve never had any complaints on that front before,” Stiles muses out loud, sneaking a look at Derek.

 

“Oh God, forgot I even said anything,” Peter shakes his head as he gets up off the table, taking his cup with him. “I’ll be in my office.”

 

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Derek says, his eyes still fixed on Stiles as Peter mumbles something like ‘whatever’ as he saunters out of the dining room.

 

“Tomorrow’s my free day,” Stiles grins as he sits down next to Derek at the now otherwise empty table.

 

“Excellent,” Derek says, leaning into Stiles to drop a kiss on his lips. “I’ll make sure to serve on you then.”

 

“Careful,” Stiles grins, right in Derek’s face. “I’m a bit high maintenance.”

 

“I think I can handle you,” Derek mutters against Stiles’ lips.

  
And Stiles thinks he just might.

 

***

 

The End

 

 


End file.
